


Dead or Alive (A Fiddle of Gold)

by Limitless_Mind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, An Unreasonable amount of death, Angst, Asia, DEAN DOES NOT SURVIVE, Everyone dies and comes back, Falling In Love, Ghosts, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I didn't get art but it's fine :'), Idiots in Love, Lions, Lucifer (Supernatural) Has Issues, M/M, Music, POV Sam Winchester, Rowena is a badass, Sabriel Big Bang 2018, Sam Winchester plays the violin, Witchcraft, don't worry everyone lives in the end, everyone dies, ghost!fic, inspired by prompt, like everyone, sorta - Freeform, the Shurley family needs some help, what is sleep even tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 07:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15091532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limitless_Mind/pseuds/Limitless_Mind
Summary: Sam moves into a new house to try to start over after he loses his brother to cancer. Unfortunately, death seems to follow him around like a swarm of vengeful bees, and he finds himself in the midst of a complicated adventure involving witches,  a family of ghosts, and a particularly spunky little spirit who's determined to keep Sam away from his older brother on the night that every other previous owner of the house has not survived. It's not as easy as it sounds, and it doesn't even sound easy.





	1. Clapping Through the Dust

**Author's Note:**

> HOOOLY SHIT. Okay, so this was my first SBB, and it was HARD, but I had a lot of fun! Beta read by an-untitledxdocument and snips-snails-skittles on Tumblr.

Sam stared at the smooth wood in front of him, taking a deep breath and picking the instrument up. It was beautiful, a glossy chestnut wood with neat strings in perfect, pristine position. 

_ Take this. Something to do when my dumb ass isn’t around to take care of you anymore.  _

 

The tall man wanted to put the violin away, hide it so it couldn’t stare at him anymore- inconspicuous and terrible from the corner of the dusty room. He hadn’t got around to cleaning around or unpacking either, so the room was full of U-Haul boxes and silt. White sheets covered the furniture. If he hadn’t just bought the old place, he would have thought it was abandoned for years, not a few months. The previous owners had disappeared, letting the house get foreclosed after a full year of not paying their mortgage. No one knew why. 

 

Sam wasn’t going to lie; he was kind of hoping the rabid raccoon or whatever that had made Mr. and Mr. Robinson vanish into the woods that lined the property would decide that it wanted something more along the lines of a super-sized meal. He lifted the corner of the sheet covering the sofa and gagged at the sight of the ugly faded floral print. Even he had better taste than that. 

 

“Christ, this stuff should’ve been hacked to pieces and burned a long time ago.” A chill blew through the house and he shivered, rubbing his arms. The flannel he was wearing suddenly felt thin. Sam walked over to the violin and frowned, peering down at it. “I should put you back.”

 

Funnily enough, the violin didn’t respond. 

 

“I shouldn’t use you. I shouldn’t play you. Because you remind me of Dean.” No response. Sam sighed and picked up the damn violin, losing the argument with his own mind. He needed to play, needed it like air, and he couldn’t let his grief make his six years of expensive lessons (albeit paid for with stolen money) for naught. “Fine. You win. Just once.” He touched the bow to the strings and started to play a piece that came easily to him, the first one that sprang into his grief-cluttered mind. The Danse Macabre. It seemed almost laughable that a song that focused around death should be the only thing he could get flawlessly. Sam’s bow moved across the strings, finding the melody. The house seemed even emptier with the lonely strains of music filtering through the dust. It was really a very nice violin, Sam mused. Dean shouldn’t have bought it for him, especially with the money that was supposed to be going into his hospice care. 

 

_ “Hey, Lucifer, listen!”  _

_ “Music?” _

_ “What’s going on?”  _

_ “Who is that?”  _

_ “Oh, Cassie, isn’t it beautiful?”  _

 

Sam heard none of the voices and he saw none of them as he played, his eyes closed and his hair swishing as he played, lost in the moment. He had played a solo in this song in his first recital- the one that Dean had come to. The only one that their father had deigned to attend. 

 

_ “Jesus, he’s good.” _

_ “Much better than those two doddering fools. No appreciation for music.” _

_ “I’m so glad he replaced them, maybe he’ll last a few weeks.”  _

_ “Do you think he has an Asia record?”  _

_ “Who cares about Asia? Just listen!”  _

 

They were dancing, all of them, swaying slowly to the discordant melody of the song. It was an eerie, ethereal picture. Only one of them sat to the side, watching the human play, enraptured. He leaned forward, hands covering his mouth, thankful that he didn’t have to blink. It was hypnotizing, captivating, beautiful to watch this human play. How he wished that he wasn’t invisible, that this artist could see his rapture. 

 

The song ended and Sam set the violin down, getting the strange urge to bow. And that was when he heard it. A clapping noise, coming from the corner of the room. His heart turned to ice and rose in his throat and he walked over to the source, peering over the blankets that were stacked there. He moved the boxes out, looking through them for anything that could play any kind of noise. And there was nothing. The clapping persisted and Sam stood up, taking an awkward little bow. What did he have to lose? 

 

“Thank you?” he asked the empty air, and the clapping stopped suddenly, like someone had been knocked unconscious and prevented from going further. 

“ _ WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” _

_ “I liked it!” It was an understatement. He loved it. He would give up everything that made him himself, his memories, his mind, just to hear it again. Lucifer let go of his wrists, scowling.  _

_ “You’re an idiot.” _

_ “You’re rude and ungrateful. Artists like appreciation, you know.” He sulked.  _

_ “HE THINKS THAT HE’S ALONE!”  _

 

Sam took a deep breath, setting the violin away, and started to move the boxes away from the couch. He would sleep there tonight. He felt someone watching him but looked around and saw no one. 

 

“Hello?” There was nothing. Sam should be freaking out. Someone was in his house, maybe a serial killer or a thief. But he felt nothing but peace. Maybe he was hearing things. His brother was dead, there had to be some rational explanation for hearing this kind of thing. PTSD? Probably. 

 

_ The spectre watched. The man looked like someone had just hit his dog. That wasn’t good, he had just created something beautiful, why was he sad? He looked around and saw a photo with the man and another, a shorter one. The spirit walked over to it and knocked it over. Maybe remembering this moment would make the violinist happy again.  _

 

Sam jumped as the photo behind him fell to the floor with a crash. He ran over to it and sighed, relieved when he saw that nothing was damaged. It was his favorite photo of him and Dean. Dean. His big brother, his mother and his father, the kid that had raised him since he was in diapers. Would Dean want this for Sam? Would he want Sam to act like this, all depressed and lonely? The younger Winchester could practically hear his brother in his mind, telling him to pick his ass up off the floor and start making a home for himself. Sam sighed. He had a few hours of daylight left, and he probably wasn’t going to end up sleeping anyway. The tall man set the photo back on top of the box and opened a few windows, relishing the cool breeze that came through. He’d try to unpack at least a little, try to settle in.

 

The wind through the windows was starting to blow dust away from the sheets over the ugly furniture and the moving boxes, which had only been there two hours and were developing a thin sheen already. Weak gray light filtered into the house through the barren trees, which stood black and ominous against the sky. Sam sighed, brushing some hair away from his face. He’d picked this place because the land was cheap and only because of that, and honestly it didn’t feel much like home. He doubted it ever really would. 

 

***

 

In about an hour and a half it was getting dark, and Sam had designated his bedroom, unloaded most of his clothes and his toiletries, and found some random paraphernalia under his bed. A weird sort of trumpet thing and a long, tarnished silver knife, which he locked in the drawer in his room. There was a nagging feeling around the knife that made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want to look at it anymore. 

  
  



	2. Not Quite Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the Conjuring. Sam finds the Conjuring less interesting when he's living it. Short Chapter.

Sam woke in the morning with the feeling of someone watching him. He sat up and winced, a hand going to his neck. There was the dull ache of a bruise there, confirmed by when he looked in the dusty mirror above the sink in his room. What the hell?

 

“I think I would’ve remembered bumping my _neck_ on something,” he muttered. Oh well. It was probably an iron deficiency, he’d been eating crappy gas station food for awhile with no motivation to cook anything. Cooking had always been Dean’s thing anyway. “No,” he said firmly, standing up straighter and staring at himself in the mirror. “We aren’t going to go there. We aren’t wallowing in that today.” He froze, looking at his reflection as his blood turned to ice once again. It couldn’t be real, could it?

 

There was someone behind him, featureless, staring at him with cold, dead, empty eyes. Sam turned around and saw no one, looking back into the mirror frantically after a second. Nothing. Just his imagination. Just his PTSD. He washed his face off, sighing. What was this, _The Conjuring?_ Ghosts weren’t real, everyone knew that. Just cheap parlor tricks done by fake mystics.

Sam went through the entire day with a feeling like he was being watched. The feeling wasn’t exactly a bad one, it didn’t feel like unfriendly eyes, but the prickling sensation of someone staring at your back was unpleasant in any situation. He would continuously turn around and watch the area that he was positive had been peering at him for a few seconds. The stairs, the living room, his bedroom, and the basement were the worst. How could the Robinsons have stood this?  

 

Sam had gone to the basement to clear out the dust and the cobwebs, and was immediately struck by a feeling of dread and terror, even though there was no one there. Even after he turned on the light, the feeling stayed, hanging on him like a leaden cloak.

 

The cold dead eyes of the featureless being in his bathroom were seared into his retinas, staring at him every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t feel well rested- more jumpy than usual, in fact.

 

Sam wondered about seeing a psychic. It was insane, there was no such thing as ghosts. It was just his PTSD. But his therapist had recommended “finding closure” or whatever the hell that meant. So fucking whatever. He’d go waste thirty bucks on a Ouija Board. Wasn’t a big deal. The younger and now only Winchester left went to sleep feeling anxious, upset, and twitchy. What if there were more bruises in the morning? What if the faceless _thing_ from that morning came and killed him in his sleep? Did it matter? He needed to get a grasp on his drinking and his imagination. When had this morphed from a new beginning in a new house to a C-Grade horror movie?

Sam fell asleep haunted.

 

_He was thrilled. The man was responding! He was looking around and calling out to the spirit! Not by name, of course, and he seemed afraid, but that would quickly be remedied, right? The spectre was fairly sure he didn’t remember his own name anyway, what would his name help?  Maybe this man would remind him. He walked over and watched the peaceful rising and falling of his new companion’s chest and sighed unhappily, looking down at his own torso, which did not move with breath or any sign of life. That sucked. The ghost put a hand gently on the arm of the living creature and pulled away sharply when a bruise blossomed. He hadn’t meant… why did his touch hurt the other? He hadn’t meant to!_

 

_The spectre fled from the room in tears, going to his favorite corner on the landing of the stairs and sitting there, weeping in fear and confusion._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Roundtable Rival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here are the links for what Sam has been playing!
> 
> Danse Macabre:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0glOYQBlSA
> 
> Roundtable Rival:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvipPYFebWc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We meet Gabriel, in a way.

Third Day: 

 

Someone’s watching me.  I can feel it. I woke up with another bruise today, this time on my arm. Thought I heard someone crying last night. I’m starting to doubt the firm belief that I had that ghosts aren’t real. Maybe I’m insane or whatever.

 

Sam tapped his pen against the sheet of the notebook, sighing heavily and closing his eyes. Maybe he’d try a little experiment. The journaling wasn’t making his paranoia go away at all, only increasing it if anything. He walked down to the living room and pushed a box aside, going to his violin case and opening it, resisting every nerve in his body that was screaming for him to leave it, to leave the smooth wooden case closed, to leave the damned instrument in its damned box. Sam started to record a video of himself on his phone, touching the bow to the strings and starting to play. It was a harder piece, more challenging, but he still liked it just as much. Lindsey Stirling,  _ Roundtable Rival _ . He had found it on YouTube. 

 

_ This time was different. The song was less of mourning and more of defiance. He liked it. It was good.  _

 

_ “He’s playing again!” They all congregated in the living room, feet running down stairs and up the stairs from the basement, peering through the doorway and perching on boxes. All of the spirits started to dance again, aside from the one that stood in the corner, eyes alight with wonder for a second time. _

 

Sam took a deep breath, starting to play faster. He couldn’t see his phone screen from where he was standing, but he could feel it. Someone watching him. The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the song and not on the feeling that there were people staring at him, people that could be potentially dead. He heard the floorboards of the house creaking rapidly, heard the pattering of feet, and felt the feeling intensify. The paranoia was unbearable. 

 

_ “Wow, he’s so good.” _

_ “And handsome too, eh, Mister Starstruck?” _

_ “Shut up, there’s a reason you died alone.”  _

_ “Both of you, quiet. I want to hear this.”  _

 

Sam felt the air shift, grow colder. He closed his eyes and kept playing, forcing his arm to move the bow. Fear gripped his chest like an icy hand and he stopped suddenly, dropping the violin with a musical-sounding crash and seizing his phone, running outside at full tilt. He couldn’t hear the clapping from inside, but knew that it was there. The tall man stopped the recording and sat down on the grass, pressing play. He was playing violin, nothing new. He had seen himself do it in recital recordings. 

 

But what happened after about half a minute made him suck in a sharp breath. A glowing shape about the size of a small adult human appeared without warning, wrapping what seemed to be a hand around the doorframe. It was featureless, nothing more than a large glowing blot on the screen. Sam’s hands started to shake. This couldn’t be real, but there was no other explanation. The figure was too clear and moved too naturally to be a trick of the light. And then he heard it. 

 

_ “He’s playing again!”  _ It was staticky, and sort of warped, layered like voices upon voices, but it was a voice, and it wasn’t Sam’s. He couldn’t tell if the speaker was male or female. Suddenly there were all sorts of the blots, big and small, fat and thin. More of them filed in from the basement, moving orderly in single file. 

 

“ _ Wow,”  _ the first blot sighed. “ _ He’s so good.”  _ Sam blushed. The… the dead people in his home thought he was good. It was the sort of compliment that he never thought he’d get. Another taller blot bumped into him, its light flaring as a low chuckle played from the speaker in his phone. 

 

“ _ And handsome too, eh, Mister Starstruck?”  _ Was that the name of the first blot? No, not a blot, Sam realized. A ghost. A friggin’ ghost. He was going to have a panic attack. Starstruck’s voice sounded again, the tone sharp and annoyed. 

 

“ _ Shut up, there’s a reason you died alone.”  _ They all knew that they were dead? Sam froze. Well, there goes any other kind of reasonable doubt. They were ghosts. 

 

“ _ Both of you, quiet. I want to hear this,”  _ A third ghost snapped, and then the first one, Starstruck, hopped off of the box it had been… sitting on, Sam guessed. It walked up to Sam and stood there, what must have been its head tilting back in euphoria from the sound. The third ghost yanked Starstruck back forcefully, and the Sam on screen shuddered slightly. And that was all that Sam needed. He stopped the video and sat on the grass, head in his hands, breathing deeply and trying not to panic. Great. Not only would he never see his brother again, his life was now some kind of terribly written horror movie. He needed to call someone, someone who wouldn’t think he was insane. And then it hit him.

 

Hell, he’d just call Rowena, she believed in this kind of crazy shit anyway. Made money off of it, at least. He barrelled into the house and stopped dead as the the feeling of being watched hit him him like a truck. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” he managed to gasp before he scrambled to the only place that got reception and speed-dialed Rowena. She picked up on the second ring. 

 

“Yeah?” 

“Hi, Rowena, it’s Sam.” He winced as cold hit him and froze in place, trying not to remember all of the shitty tv shows that Dean had made him watch as a kid. No hands in the blender. “Samuel Winchester?” 

“Hello, Sam. Everything all right, child? You sound worried.” 

“My house is haunted.” A long beat. 

“You know, that stopped being funny when your brother did it to me.” 

“Rowena, I’m not shitting you!” he squeaked. “There are like fifteen of them and they watch me play the violin. I-I-I-I’m starting to wake up with bruises I can’t explain, and I heard crying last night! I have a video with them talking, please just come out and help me!” 

“Whoa, whoa, Sam.” Rowena’s voice turned gentle in an instant. “Take some deep breaths. Have they tried to hurt you yet?” 

“N-No, aside from the bruising.” 

“Okay. Then I don’t think they will. Unless an invisible hand has tried to shove you down the stairs, you’ll be okay. If something like that happens, get in your car and drive to my place. If it doesn’t, I’ll be there in a day at most. Just be patient.” Sam gulped and nodded, saying his goodbyes hollowly and sitting down on the dusty floor. 

 

“Didn’t know this place came with roommates,” he joked to himself, and to the dead people watching him. “If I had, I would’ve at least washed my dishes.” An idea struck him and he straightened slightly, grabbing his car keys and looking back at the empty house. “Dear god, guys, please just don’t break anything,” he pleaded, getting into his car and driving to the nearest shopping mall. 

 

_ “You fucking idiot!” Lucifer screeched. “They’re going to send us away now!” The first one, the one that loved the human (though he would never admit it), cowered in the corner of the landing by the stairs. _

_ “I-I’m sorry! You know what, I wasn’t the one that decided to go look at him! You know, he saw you in the fucking mirror!” Fear morphed into anger and a chilly wind blew through the house, making the other inhabitants shiver. _

_ “He only saw me for a second! He thinks he knows your  _ name  _ now! And he heard you clapping!”  _

_ “Luce, leave him the hell alone,” the second one snapped. “We all made mistakes.”  _

_ “Who’s Rowena?” another asked, one with blue eyes.  _

_ “Dunno,” the second one sighed. “Let’s just hope she’s not some kind of priest or something, or we’re all in the shitter.”  _

_ “We’re all in the shitter anyway!” Lucifer ranted. “And it’s his fault!”  _

_ “Is NOT!” the first ghost roared.  _

_ “ALL OF YOU, QUIET! _ ” _ the eldest screamed. “I’m trying to read!” They all lapsed into sullen silence, the third treading on the first’s toes and the first throwing a dirty sock, the nearest projectile, at the third.  _

_ “A hundred years, guys, feel old yet?”  _

 

_ “Yes,” they all replied, even the child who was swinging his legs, his heels hitting the cardboard of a U-Haul box.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think. Feed the abyss. Do it.


	4. Gabriel, the Wise Man, and the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Gabriel for reals!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate Ouija Boards, but it worked the best.

Sam returned an hour later and it seemed like the house let out a breath. The air was tense. It felt like it had back when Dad was still alive and he and Sam had been bickering. He pulled his purchase out of its colorful bag and set it down, pulling away the cellophane and taking it out of its box. 

 

_ “A OUIJA BOARD?! Is he even fucking serious!?”  _

_ “It would appear so.” The second one and the blue-eyed spectre sat by the door to the kitchen, watching.  _

 

_ “Well, go answer him. You got us into this in the first place.” Lucifer shoved a sulking Starstruck towards the center of the room. He knelt down and placed his hands next to Samuel Winchester’s on the planchette.  _

 

“I’m not even going to try to say this stupid chant that it gives me,” Sam muttered aloud. “I know you’re here, I don’t need a confirmation.” The planchette under his fingers moved and he took a sharp breath, first going to the H and then the I. “Yeah, hi to you too. W-What’s your name?” 

“G-A-B-R-I-E-L” 

“Gabriel. Okay.” The house seemed to relax. The planchette moved again. 

“N-A-M-E”

“Name. O-Oh, I’m Sam. Hi.” He took a shuddering breath. “How many of you are there?”

“1-5.” 

“Fifteen. I thought I counted fifteen.” 

“F-A-M-I-L-Y.” 

“You’re all related?!” 

“YES” 

“Do you want to hurt me?” A long pause. The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stood straight up. 

“NO E-X-C-E-P-T L-U-C-E.” 

“No except Luce. No except… you don’t want to hurt me, but... Luce does? Well, that’s nice to know.” The planchette went flying out from underneath his fingers and there was a short invisible struggle before someone was thrown back and the side of a box caved in, sending notebooks everywhere. 

 

The planchette slammed down on the board so hard the the viewing window cracked, and started to move frantically on its own. 

“H-E-L-L-O. I-A-M-L-U-C-I-F-E-R” Sam’s breath stopped. 

“You’re the devil?” 

“NO” 

“Then why is your name… are you all former members of a cult?” 

“D-A-D-L-I-K-E-D-B-I-B-L-E” 

“Oh. That must’ve been a nightmare in school.” 

“YES” An awkward silence. 

“So who was the first voice in the video?” He pressed play, for reference. The planchette flew away again and swung through the air like there was a hand gripping it, hitting into an invisible form. Another blow, and it was set delicately down again. Sam took a deep breath. This was happening. He had made contact with someone who was dead. 

 

“G-A-B-E” 

“You’re Starstruck.” Clapping from the other side of the board. Sam smiled. He decided that he liked Gabriel better. It might’ve just been bias, Gabriel had said that he liked Sam’s music. “The second one?” 

“B-A-L-T-H-A-Z-A-R” 

“Your dad really did like the Bible, huh?” 

“YES” 

“Third guy? Dare I ask?” 

“S-A-T-A-N” 

“Could’ve called that one.” Lucifer seemed violent, Sam noticed. That was probably why he liked Gabriel better. It was a better reason, at least. “Who was that in my mirror?” 

“S-A-T-A-N” 

“Lucifer, huh? Do you guys all hang out in my bedroom?”

“NO” 

“Some of you do, apparently.” 

“I-T-W-A-S-M-I-N-E” 

“Your bedroom?” He was sleeping in Gabriel’s bed. “Did you kill the previous owners?” Long pause. 

“L-S-A-Y-S-A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T” 

“L says accident. Lucifer said it was an accident? So you did kill them.” 

“L-U-C-I-F-E-R. I-L-I-K-E-D-T-H-E-M” 

“Lucifer, specifically. Gotcha.” His heart was beating faster than was healthy. “Does he want to kill me?” 

“NO. Y-E-T” Sam gulped. 

“Right.” His voice had gone up an octave. “You like it when I play my violin?” Clapping again, and he smiled. Gabriel seemed okay. “Anything I should know?” 

“P-R-A-N-K-S” Oh no. Like a Poltergeist? Because the movies that Sam had seen usually involved lamp cords and knives as a part of those pranks. 

“Deadly ones?” 

“NO I-D-I-O-T. J-U-S-T-P-R-A-N-K-S” Sam laughed out loud at that. 

“You were the annoying little brother, huh?” This was beyond strange. 

“O-F-C-O-U-R-S-E” Sam smiled, reaching out his hand to shake. There was a breath of air as someone moved back quickly. The human frowned. 

“You don’t like it when people touch you?” There was a sigh and then the planchette zipped around again. 

 

“S-H-O-W-Y-O-U” Two bruises shaped like pads of someone’s fingers appeared on the back of Sam’s hand and traced outward, making a heart. Sam pulled his hand away, examining the heart. 

“Your touch hurts.” 

“YES” 

“Was that you crying?” The air went down a degree and the lights dimmed, buzzing a little as they flickered. The room looked depressing, cold March sunlight filtering through the thin curtains. 

“YES”

“Hey, Gabe, it’s okay, they’re just bruises. They go away.” The lights stopped flickering.

 

“R-E-A-L-L-Y” The question mark was obvious. Sam grinned. 

“Yeah. I’ve had worse. There was a guy at one of my middle schools, Dirk…” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed the children waiting at your door. I sent them.


	5. Look Me in the Eyes, Tell Me What You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Rowena bungles a spell for once...

They spent hours conversing in front of the Ouija board, Lucifer occasionally violently butting in and Balthazar coming in one time to ask if they had any whiskey, which they did not. 

 

Rowena arrived when it was already dark, carrying a very large trunk into the living room and gawking at Sam, who had tears rolling down his face from laughter as Gabriel explained how he had accidentally let a bunch of chickens into the house in the 1800s. The psychic dropped the trunk. It made a loud thump that scared the ghosts so much that the planchette flipped off of the board and bounced off the door-frame next to Rowena’s head. 

 

“Hey, Red.” Sam turned to grin at her. “I made some new friends.” Rowena smiled a sort of tense half-smile at him and picked him up by the ear, dragging him outside. 

“Are you daft, boy?” she hissed. “I know this house. IF you had consulted me before buying it, I’d have told you to invest in an apartment! It’s swallowed fifty people in the past hundred years!” Sam paled. 

“Fifty?!” 

“And you’re in there talking with those spirits like you’re childhood chums?! They’re all dangerous, Sam, even the little baby. Their touch bruises, their-”

 

“I know their touch bruises. One of them spent the entire night crying about accidentally hurting me. They’re not bad people, Row.” Sam rolled up his sleeve to show the psychic the heart on the back of his hand and the greenish bruise on his arm. “Well, not most of them. Lucifer was touching my neck a few nights ago, and that’s really creepy, but otherwise they all seem nice.” 

 

“Oh, dear.” Rowena clucked her tongue. “Well, I’ll try some things, see what I can do instead of immediate banishment.” This was a blatant lie. “But you’ll owe me one.” Sam gulped but nodded. Owing Rowena things was never good. 

 

The woman hopped into the house, starting to set up strange objects around the living room. Crystal balls, vials of salt, a muslin cloth that she draped over the cross on the mantle that Sam hadn’t had the energy or patience to remove. “Alright, boy, step inside this wee circle here…” she nodded, smiling. “Excellent. Now, I want you to close your eyes, because this will get a bit bright…” She dumped a jar of silver shavings mixed with lavender water into a strange machine and pulled a lever. The beings inside the room started to howl, and unearthly, pained wailing sound that shook the windows and rattled the glasses in the kitchen. 

 

“Are you- Are you making them angry?” 

“They’ll thank me later,” Rowena shouted over the howling and the clanging of the machine. And then it all stopped as suddenly as it had started, and Sam opened his eyes. Fifteen translucent bodies clothed in dirty rags stood around the room, blinking and looking at themselves and each other. Sam gaped. 

 

“H-Hi, guys…” They all turned to look at him. Rowena frowned. That was a high-grade banishment technique. Why weren’t they gone?

“Strange.” A small man with faded golden hair looked up from his hands and saw Sam, sprinting over to him. 

“Are you okay?” It was Gabriel from the recording, only clear as a bell. Sam smiled, reaching out for his new friend, only to have the spirit pull away, looking ashamed. He still felt guilty, apparently. The rest of them filed away to other places, only two men with spiky blonde hair and a blue-eyed ghost with a baby on his hip remaining. 

 

“I’m fine. Gabriel, I can handle a few bruises. You can’t help being dead.” 

“I hate that if I touch you, it hurts you. You’re the only one who’s tried to talk to me,” Gabriel said guiltily. Sam found himself smiling. 

“It’s  _ fine _ . We’ll find a different way. So you’re Gabriel, huh?” Gabriel smirked, and Sam felt little twistings in his stomach that he had really only ever felt around his late girlfriend. Rowena snickered from her corner. As much as she didn’t want the ghosts around Sam, she had suspected this outcome by the way he had been laughing. And it was cute to see such a tough-looking man act so bashful and shy.

 

“And you’re Sam. Great violin playing, by the way. I used to play the bugle, but I can’t now. Y’know… hands.” He wiggled his fingers, his smile self-deprecating. Sam blinked. 

“The horn, upstairs, that was yours?!” Gabriel beamed. 

“Ten points to Gryffindor. The knife was Lucifer’s.” At Sam’s blank stare he added, “The Robinsons were Rowling nuts. I know alllll about that kind of thing now.” 

“It was annoying,” the taller boy with the spiky blonde hair said, scowling. He was wearing a blue t-shirt with a leather jacket. 

“I thought it was endearing,” said the blue-eyed ghost with the baby. His voice was gravelly and deep. It contrasted his appearance greatly and had Sam blinking in confusion. 

“Still annoying.” 

“Shut your trap for once, Lucifer,” the third ghost with the v-neck shirt and the accent said, rolling his eyes. Gabriel sighed. 

“Right. My manners. These are, in order, Lucifer, Balthazar, and Castiel with baby Alfie.” They all said their hellos and Rowena groaned, pulling her jacket out after rifling around in the living room closet for a second. Lucifer narrowed his eyes. 

 

“Well, since no one has tried to kill anyone yet.. This is indeed dull. I’m going home. Goodbye!” 

“No, Rowena, wait-” The door slammed. “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” Lucifer said quietly, crossing his arms. “We don’t need her anymore. You can see us.” The human gulped. That had sounded vaguely menacing. Gabriel scowled and grabbed Sam’s shirt sleeve, pulling him with surprising force towards the stairs. 

 

“Piss off, Luce. I’m not letting you get this one on your Death Day.” 

“You always say that!” Lucifer called petulantly after them. “And you can never manage to do it!” Gabriel gritted his teeth and yanked his bewildered charge into his- their bedroom, sort of.  _ Oh Jesus.  _

 

“What was that?!” Sam squeaked. “Death Day?! Rowena left and… oh my god, am I going to die? I just wanted a new beginning, that was all… I don’t want to die.” Gabriel soothed him, walking over to the cabinet with purpose and pulling out a pair of dusty gloves. He blew on them and shook them out a little, watching the particles of ash and dirt and such pass through his body in the sunlight. The spirit pulled them on and walked over to Sam, sitting down next to him and clasping his hands in his own. They were freezing through the gloves. 

 

“Calm down. I haven’t been able to protect the other people, yeah, but there were always two of the humans, and Michael and Raphael, my older brothers, never wanted to get involved.” Sam took a shaky breath, shivering, and Gabriel pulled his hands away reluctantly. 

“Death Day?” The spirit took a deep breath. 

“We can go for hundreds of years and remember the exact moment that we died. My kind. Ghosts. Out of all of us, Lucifer had one of the most violent deaths of all. So he… on every April 2nd, he goes crazy.” Sam sucked in a sharp breath. 

 

“It’s March 31st already.” Gabriel nodded. 

“I’m going to unfortunately have to skip April Fools Day in favor of not letting this idiot kill you.” 

“Why do you care?” 

“I like the way you play your violin. I like the way you move to it. I used to move the same way.” Sam felt something in his heart twist. 

“Y’know, how about I take you out on Lucifer’s day? We can go shopping, go see the zoo or something.” Gabriel’s eyes widened. 

“You would do that? You’ll have to lug that dumb bugle around, I can’t go anywhere without it.” 

“Sure!” Sam smiled. “You seem nice and hey, death has circled me my entire life. I don’t see why I can’t have a friend who’s dead too.” Gabriel’s curiously colored eyes were shining. 

“Jesus, if all it takes are a few jokes through the Ouija Board…” The spirit cracked a small smile and Sam grinned, taking the glove. The paranoia didn’t seem so bad now that he knew who was watching him and could see them as well. For some reason, the whole ghost thing didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. 

 

“Hey, Sam?” 

“Yeah, Gabriel?” 

“Do you have an Asia record?” 

  
  
  
  


He did, and it was thoroughly exhausted by the time that Sam said that he had to turn in. Gabriel smiled and sat next to the turntable, hand propping up his cheek, staring at the record circle around lazily. 

Sam stopped, watching the translucent body of the spirit as the moon rose and illuminated him through the window behind him. It was ethereal, how Gabriel’s skin turned the colour of glacial water in the light of the moon, and his beautiful golden hair dulled to a pale-ish, insubstantial grey. The spectre closed his eyes, lips blue, and he looked for a second as if he had died again for a second time, frozen in the moment. His chest didn’t rise or fall as the strangled chords of Asia echoed throughout the empty house, the dark wood and faded floral wallpaper corresponding perfectly with the otherworldly being in front of him. Sam slowly backed away into the shadows, letting Gabriel have the peace that he didn’t want or need. 

 

***

 

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.

Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand

That I might touch that cheek!

 

-Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare, Act 2, Scene 2

  
  



	6. Who Will Have Mercy on Your Soul?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp.

“Morning, sunshine!” Sam shrieked and sat up fast, wincing as a bruise formed on his forehead. He had accidentally run into Gabriel’s face. The spirit scoffed in distaste and hopped off of the bed, running a hand through his hair. “Get up, sweetpea, it’s April Fool’s Day.” 

 

“Don’t you have preparations to make?” Sam grumbled sourly, looking at the clock. “Three a.m., Gabriel, seriously?! The one night that I actually get to sleep, you wake me up at some ungodly hour?” 

 

“Ungodly is right.” Gabriel looked at him, and Sam realized that worry was painting his pale face. “Something’s wrong with Lucifer.” Sam’s eyes widened and he hopped out of bed, starting to pull on his boots. 

“What’s going on?” Gabriel took Sam’s hand. 

 

“He’s attacking us. The other spirits.” It was then that Sam heard the cries. Ever since he had moved into this house, he had felt someone watching him. He hadn’t known if they were good or bad. Well, Gabriel was good. And Sam wasn’t sure what to think of Lucifer. Right now, he was going with bad. 

“Wh- How many?” 

 

“He’s already banished our cousin, Zachariah.” Gabriel’s voice broke. “We have to find Luce’s leather jacket. It’s the only thing that’ll stop him.” 

“Okay. Okay.” Sam felt the air chilling as Gabriel’s emotions spiraled out of control and he clutched his hand, trying to soothe him. Pulling the sheet off of the bed and wrapping it around the spirit, he pulled him in for a hug. “Calm down. Calm down. Where is the jacket?” Gabriel was frigid against him, but Sam found that he didn’t mind. 

 

“I-I-I-I-It’s in the living room closet in the back, all mushed up,” Gabriel sniffled, leaning his head against Sam’s shirt. 

“Shh. Let’s go work it out. Are you calm?” 

“I’m better.” 

 

“Let’s do this.” Gabriel took Sam’s hand and smiled bravely, leading him downstairs to a room of utter chaos. The spirits were cowering in corners and a fire roared in the hearth. Smoke was making the room barely visible despite the open window, and Lucifer’s form was seen dancing around diabolically, throwing random objects into the fire. A blue dress fell over the burning wood, and a long-haired girl in the corner burned up with a shriek. A massive heap of objects that Sam figured to be things that this strange family was tied to was in the center of the room, illuminated by the flames. A tan trench-coat. A red-and-white striped cap. A sketchbook. An empty bottle of Jack. The silver blade from upstairs. A copy of  _ Moby Dick _ . And, flashing in the light, Gabriel’s bugle.

 

“That’s how he’s killing them? Burning what they’re tied to?” Sam whispered to Gabriel, who had gone even whiter if possible. 

“Yes,” he whispered, scrambling down the stairs, golden hair flying. Lucifer had picked up the trench-coat. “HEY!” he screamed, waving his arms desperately and even deigning to pick up one of Sam’s vases, throwing it at his brother. It passed right through him, of course, but managed to land on the couch, unharmed. “Hey, asshole!” 

 

“You talking to me, little brother?” Lucifer snarled, dropping the coat and stepping over it. Sam ran to the closet, finding the leather jacket crumpled up in the corner, just like Gabriel had said. 

“Yes,” Gabriel faltered, moving in between Sam and Lucifer. “Yes, I am. What gives you the right to send us away!? We’re your family, that’s our choice!” 

 

“Dad banished himself just so he didn’t have to be near us,” Lucifer spat. “He’d rather be rotting in Hell than near his own children.” Gabriel rolled his eyes, careful demeanor forgotten. 

“Oh, shut it. You’ve been whining about that for decades,” he snapped. “Boo-hoo, Daddy liked me best and now he’s gone, guess I’m going to fuck everyone else up.” Sam carried the jacket carefully towards the group, not noticing the little red bag in the left pocket. 

“What he did wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair,” Lucifer seethed. “Are you taking his side?” 

“I’m not on anyone’s side!” Gabriel barked, going so far as to stamp his foot. “I’m saying that you hurting us is the thing that isn’t remotely fair! We didn’t throw his typewriter into the fire! We didn’t even know what the hell was going on! And you’re acting like a fucking two year old- sorry, Alfie- instead of the second oldest kid in this damn family! You’ve had forever to do it, Luce, time to grow the fuck up!” Lucifer’s face darkened until it was almost completely lost in shadow, and frost crept over the window panes. Sam was frozen in fear, unable to do anything but watch. Dear god, not Gabriel. Please, no, he’d just found someone he could care about. 

 

“Not on anyone’s side, huh?” the older ghost sneered. “I don’t believe it.” Before anyone could register what was going on, he had snatched the tarnished bronze bugle and whipped it into the flames. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me, it gets worse before it gets better.
> 
> Tell me if you see the parallels.


	7. How Did You Leave This Earth?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer explains, and they find the culprit.

Several things happened at that moment. The screaming stopped in shocked horror. Sam dropped the jacket, and the little red bag rolled out, a draft from the open window blowing it into the flames. And Gabriel looked down at his fingertips, which were smoldering white-hot, with a terrified expression. As the red bag burned, Lucifer’s eyes cleared, and he blinked, looking around the room and its frightened inhabitants, and then at Gabriel. 

“Lucifer,” the smaller spirit rasped as the fire spread to his arms. 

“No,” Sam gasped, scrambling for the fire poker and trying to fish the bugle out. The elder spirit merely stood there confusedly, watching his little brother burn. A red-haired girl snatched the sketchbook off of the pile of unburned items and clutched it to her chest, her eyes wide. 

“It’s one thing to send your cousins away,” she shouted brokenly, “He’s your brother!” Castiel pulled her back, muttering, “Anna, leave it.” 

 

“I won’t leave it!” She fought him off. “Are you insane? Even Father wouldn’t dream of doing something like that!” Gabriel’s golden eyes flicked over to Sam, and there were flames reflected in them. He smiled painfully and waved goodbye as the fire spread more and more rapidly, consuming him until the bugle was nothing but a melted puddle in the fireplace and the gloves were a pile of ashes on the floor. Sam felt something in his chest break as he remembered Gabriel sitting in the moonlight, listening to Asia with a peaceful smile on his face. How he had worn gloves to make sure that he didn’t hurt the human. The hopeful grin when Sam offered to take him to the outside world. Something told him that Gabriel was gone for good now. 

Lucifer seemed to snap out of whatever horrified trance he had been in and rushed to where Gabriel had been, clawing at air. 

 

“Gabriel,” he pleaded breathlessly. “Gabriel.” Sam looked over at the fire and frowned, pulling the charred bag out of the flames. 

“What is this?” he asked to the utter silence. Balthazar stood up, taking it out of Sam’s hand and poking his finger through the burn hole in the stitched symbol on one side. 

“This? It’s a hex bag. Witches use this, they do.” Castiel’s blue eyes went huge. 

“Witch? Like that red-haired woman?” 

“Rowena isn’t-” 

“It’s a spell for self-destruction,” Balthazar murmured. Sam blinked. 

“Witches exist?” 

“Aye. And demons, ghouls, vampires… the whole lot,” Balthazar said sagely. “Used to hunt them. I’m just glad that I got to die here with my family and not in some abandoned cabin.” Lucifer looked down at his hands and then got up, grabbing a pail and running to the sink to fill it, throwing it on the roaring flames. 

“I-...” Sam faltered. 

“What just happened wasn’t Lucifer moving the strings,” Castiel said solemnly. “He was under the control of a witch, in a fashion.” 

“Who could’ve-” Sam already knew, but he didn’t want to consider it. 

“Who else?” Balthazar looked up from the burned remains of the bag to Sam. “Your red-haired ‘psychic’ just killed my brother and my sister, Hael.” 

 

“WHAT?!” Sam was angry for no reason, and he found himself wanting to burst into tears. “Rowena wouldn’t… I’ve known her for years.” The look in Gabriel’s eyes, that of hurt and affection, was seared into Sam’s retinas. Hours in front of the Ouija Board, laughing. He had liked corgis and chocolate, but found both in short supply. He had hated jerks, floral carpets, and his cousin Metatron, which sucked, because he was stuck in this damn house with him for eternity. Allergic to peanuts, but that didn’t really matter anymore, ‘because I’m dead. Can’t die of any allergy’. Well, he was gone for good now, and Sam found himself wishing desperately to hear clapping. 

“Rowena did,” Balthazar insisted, fumbling in the tiny bag and pulling out a lock of curly red hair. Sam closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. 

“Why?”

 

“She thinks we’re dangerous, and so she tried to get rid of us, I’m guessing,” Castiel said solemnly, handing Alfie to Anna and walking over to them. He picked up the trenchcoat and rubbed away a bit of dirt on the lapel, sighing. “And she only succeeded a little.” Sam felt guilty for thinking that Rowena had did away with the only spirit that really mattered to him. Castiel and Balthazar seemed nice, and baby Alfie was certainly adorable, with his soft cooing and chubby little hands that pulled at Cas’s hair occasionally, leaving little tufts sticking up everywhere. But they didn’t compare to Gabriel’s easy charm, his smile and his strange golden eyes. Sam gulped and closed his eyes, refusing to cry. 

 

“So what do we do now?” Ghosts started appearing from corners, snatching their respective object and disappearing into the shadows. Balthazar burst into tears and ran off, and Castiel stood there despondently. Lucifer had his hands over his mouth, staring where Gabriel had been. Sam walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, wincing as his palm turned an ugly purple. 

“Lucifer.” Lucifer startled at the sound and turned around, staring at Sam. 

“What the hell do you want?” he choked, pulling away from Sam’s touch. 

“Can witches bring back souls from wherever they go?” Lucifer frowned, biting his lip. 

“I dunno… s’pose they could. You’d have to ask Balthazar, he knows about witches and all that freaky stuff.”

 

“Well, hate to break it to you, but you fall into the category of ‘freaky stuff’ right now,” Sam said dully, pleading internally that he was dreaming, that this was all a sick dream and Dean was okay and they were all fine. But it wasn’t. The chill of the room now that the fire was gone and the ache of his palm made that desperate plea nothing more than a fantasy. This was real. Lucifer nodded, crossing his arms. 

 

“Walk with me.” He crossed the room and up the stairs to the hallway at the top, scuffing the worn out carpet with his translucent biker boot. “Look, I wasn’t ever really normal. Dad wanted a model son, and I was exactly that for a very long time. Jesus, I was like those happy kids on the lunchboxes. And when I turned twelve, something just… happened.” He shrugged a little. “Guess it was adolescence, maybe. But I started skipping school, shoplifting from Adler on the corner, not doing my chores on the farm. And Dad snapped. Sent me off to the military.” 

“Did you die there?” Sam asked curiously. Lucifer laughed hollowly. 

“I wish, buddy. I wish. Well, I came back one summer after getting released because I broke my leg, and was welcomed home by literally everyone but Dad. He locked himself in his room and drank himself stupid, y’know. Couldn’t stand to see me.” Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He could relate. 

 

“And?”

“Balthazar and I had been on a hunt a year ago where I was stationed. Demon possession. Anyway, a few of them got away from us and managed to escape. We were both too hurt to give chase.” He leaned against the railing, and his eyes were far away.  “They came to the house, ten of them. Anna and all our cousins were over for her wedding, and Aunt Amara had been in prison for years, she wasn’t going to be able to be there for it. So Dad agreed to have the wedding in our home.” 

“What happened?” Sam felt terrible for asking it, but the curiosity was burning in him. “I’ve never seen anything like a demon before. I thought they were made up.” 

 

“Heh.” Lucifer smiled, and it was sad. “They broke down the door and opened fire on us. Michael, Raphael and Anna and I were all in the living room having a glass of wine while her fiance went and fucked around with his buddies for their bachelor party. Michael got killed right away, I don’t even think he felt anything.” White knuckles on the railing. Gritted teeth and those same distant eyes. “Raphael got shot in the stomach, he bled out and died too. Then three of them grabbed me before I could get to my knife and dragged me over, making me watch as they found everyone and pulled them out into the living room where we were.” Sam felt sick. 

“Your entire family…?” 

 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, they made Balthazar watch as well. Gabriel was with the kids and he let himself get shoved out with them only to grab a hatstand and break it over one of their faces, tried to fight them all off to defend the kids. Cas grabbed Alfie and ran for it.” 

“Did he make it?” Sam knew the answer but felt like he had to ask anyway.

 

“Almost. One of them grabbed his coat. Castiel was always a fighter, he went down swinging. Woulda made a good soldier if he had been old enough. Alfie was almost old enough to run, certainly to walk, and he tried, but they shot him.” Sam was going to throw up. He put a hand over his mouth and tried to keep the bile from rising anymore. “Anyway, they choked and stabbed Gabriel to death and shot everyone else, made us watch, the whole nine, I guess. And then it was our turn. Me ‘n Balt. They possessed us, two of them, and ripped us up from the inside.”

“Jesus.” 

 

“There wasn’t anything holy about that night, kid. Problem is, I died at 12:01 on April 2nd. A different Death Day than the rest. And since there was a full moon and demons in the same place as I was in the morning I died, all of the malicious power from the rest got transferred to me. I call it typical luck. So Balt is completely fine, while I’m full-on vengeful.” 

“What happened to your dad?” 

“Poisoned himself with booze three hours before it happened. We only found his body after we left our own lying on the floor.” Sam nodded gravely, looking over the railing at the living room.

 

“No wonder you go crazy on your Death Day. All those memories…”

“Yeah, but Balt and I died at the same time, same way, and he doesn’t go bonkers and start tryna kill people.” Lucifer’s voice cracked. “I don’t like the people who lived here, really, but I know they’re going to end up dead anyway, every time. So I just accept it. Because hey, why not be the villain? Got my whole family killed, at any rate, guess I should just keep going.” 

“Lucifer, it doesn’t have to be like this.” 

“I just killed my own brother,” Lucifer choked, “again. It doesn’t matter how it has to be, it’s just how it is.”

“A witch made you do it. Rowena…”

“Rowena only planted the seed, I let it grow. I let this happen, didn’t even try to fight it.” Lucifer’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe I am evil. Maybe I’m just like those black-eyed bastards who murdered us.” 

“Look, we can get Gabriel back.” It would have sounded less pathetic if Sam had actually believed that it was true.

 

“Well, we can try. You going to go see Rowena now?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair and tried to smile. 

“Y’know,” Lucifer said casually. “Leather jackets have been in style for awhile now, and I think I know a really nice vintage one that might just be your size.” Sam raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in sad humor. 

“Think it comes with any additions?” Lucifer’s grin was deadly as he grabbed a book off of one of the bookshelves that had been too heavy for the bank to move out to auction. Sam was rather glad that he wasn’t on the wrong side of the spirit’s anger.

“Maybe a few small ones.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe.


	8. Resurgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena makes a good decision, and they discuss plans. And then there's some blood, and a new piece of jewelry for Sam. And then they discuss plans.

Rowena looked up from the latest batch of “Spot Curing Potions” (it gave the user terrible chronic acne) to see a very tall, very familiar man banging on her door. 

“Damn,” she muttered, covering up the bottles and pasting a smile on her face. “Sam! How are you, my boy?” The witch opened the door and yelped in surprise as Sam blew past her like an angry wind and turned.   He crossed his arms and glared at her. 

“Bring him back, Rowena. I know who you are and what you do.” She gulped. 

“Bring who back, pumpkin?” 

“Gabriel.”  _ Oh, dear. I’ve upset the courting male.  _

“I didn’t…”

“The bag with all the weird shit in it, it had your hair. Look, we don’t want to hurt you, but what you did was not only hurtful, it was none of your damn business.” 

“I’m only trying to protect you, Sam. You’re a good friend.”

“Good friend?” Lucifer materialized behind them and Rowena shrieked in surprise. “You  _ violated _ my ability to control myself. I killed my own brother.” 

“I wish I could say that I meant for that to happen, but I didn’t. I only meant for you to burn that ridiculous jacket of yours,” the witch hissed angrily, her cheeks turning scarlet. 

“Still pissed about that hunt, huh?” The ghost murmured, and Sam looked over in surprise. Lucifer and Rowena knew each other? “Look, Red, you didn’t do it. You were innocent.” 

“It’s been a hundred fifty years,” Rowena spat. “At least you have the decency to admit it  _ after _ you’re dead.” 

 

“Hold up,” Sam interrupted. “You’re familiar with one another?” 

“Too familiar,” the two said in the same flat, pissy tone.

“Look, we just want Gabriel back, Rowena,” Sam said placatingly, spreading his hands and sighing. “That’s it. It was an honest mistake, and no harm will come to you, promise.”

“No harm will come to me?!” Rowena said indignantly. “This isn’t Necromancy 101, Samuel, this is a human soul.” What did they do in Necromancy 101? Sam wasn’t particularly keen on finding out. The witch crossed the room and gathered some small pouches out of a chest, throwing them onto a table. She glared at the spectre and turned to Sam, her gaze softening. “I’m sorry, lad, I know what he meant to you.” 

“W-”

 

“But I can’t.” She looked away. “It’s too dangerous. I think you’d better go now.” Sam opened his mouth and closed it, grabbing Lucifer’s jacket off of the chair- when had he put it there?- and striding out of the door, slamming it behind him. The sky was cloudy, and rain had just started to decide to make an appearance.  _ Fuckin’ typical.  _ It had rained when Dean had died as well, and now the sky seemed to be mourning the loss of another of her brightest sons, saltless tears turning into a steady downpour. 

The wind through the rain sounded like wailing. Sam’s hair was damp against his flannel and he was shivering already as he sat down, resting his head on his folded arms. 

 

“So, what now?” Lucifer appeared next to him, wisely pulling his leather jacket out of the rain and in the corner. Rowena’s shop had a small porch with an awning, and the step was just far out enough that Sam could get no shelter from the wailing and sobbing of the sky.  _ Extra fuckin’ typical.  _ The human sighed, staring out at the rain as it beat down on him. 

“We wait.” 

 

“Sam,” Lucifer said, sounding concerned. He put the jacket over his hand and touched Sam’s shoulder. “You’ll get pneumonia-”

“We  _ wait,”  _ Sam said firmly. “Look, Rowena makes a point of not caring about anyone or anything, but she feels bad about what happened and I can tell. I’m staying here until she opens the door.” Lucifer sighed, putting the jacket back and sitting next to the human inhabiting his household. 

“You’re not a bad owner, you know. You take care of the house.” He looked over at Sam, and there was something new on his face, something different. “Would you… would you take me out to see what it’s like now? The world?” 

“I can’t,” the human said hoarsely, head in his hands. “I promised Gabriel I would, and…” Lucifer bit his lip and looked out where Sam’s eyes were going. Nowhere.

“Right. Of course,” he said, his voice sounding a little bitter. The ghost scowled, kicking a rock. “Gabriel always gets the good ones, doesn’t he?” Sam looked over, frowning. 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“Nothing,” Lucifer said quickly, shooting Sam a hasty smile. “Nothing at all.” Sam blinked at the sudden change and rested his hand on his knee, cheek to palm. 

“What does all of this mean, messing with souls and dead people and witches and demons and such? Why…” It sounded so childish now that he was saying it. “Why me? What’s my purpose in all of this?”

“Call me crazy, Sam, but I think you were led to the house for a reason.” Lucifer looked over at him, his face grave. “I think you were brought here to save us.” 

“But… do you need saving?” The door swung open with a bang, going straight through Lucifer, and the two were confronted with a sour-faced Rowena. 

“Look at you two. Melodramatic idiots, out here catching a cold because you’re so wrapped up in your little fantasy. It’s making me physically sick, get in here and I’ll do the spell to save myself from all the damn drama.” Sam grinned. 

“You’re the best, Red.” 

 

“Ach, don’t let this go to your brain. It’s purely for selfish purposes, and I’ll expect payment if we all don’t get incinerated.”

“Still the best.” Rowena hid her smile. 

“Get in here, lad, and get a towel before you join your lover in oblivion.” Sam smiled and hugged Rowena, smirking when she pushed him away. “I’m not a hugger.” 

“Yes, you are.” Lucifer was making faces. 

“After we don’t die. After we don’t die.” The witch walked over to the large chest and pulled out several bottles, tossing them onto the nearest table. Next were six jars of different herbs, a wooden bowl, and a Tupperware of something that looked suspiciously like blood. 

“Do you have something that belonged to him?” Lucifer held up a melted piece of the bugle, blackened and warped. 

“Will this do?”

 

“More than enough, my dear.” She walked up to him and plucked it out of his fingers, throwing it into the wooden bowl. The witch walked over to a shelf of books and pulled one out, flipping through the cracked and yellowed pages. “Here we are. Human souls.” 

 

Sam watched as his friend spooned a dash of each herb in with the trumpet, and poured the entire Tupperware of blood in too. Next came the bottles, emptied one by one into the brew, which was starting to bubble ominously. Rowena raised her ringed hands over the bowl and started to chant. The lights went out suddenly, and Lucifer jumped, the soft blue glow emanating off of him the only thing that lit the area now. 

 

_ “Redire ad cor tuum!”  _ A loud bang that came from nowhere. Wispy trails of light came creeping out of the spell-bowl, spinning and twirling like fairies might. If they existed, naturally. Sam wasn’t sure if they did. Assuming they lived, he’d have to ask Balthazar.  _ ”Gabriel, qui est fraudulentus, reditus!”  _ Rowena was screaming over the rumbling at this point, and the lights started to blink rapidly, the room trembling as if from an earthquake. Glass rattled and empty jars broke.   _ “REDITUS!”  _ There was a massive flash of white light and then… 

 

Nothing. 

 

***

 

Sam took in a sharp breath, his eyes snapping open. He was lying on the floor, a bookshelf lying over his legs. The former lawyer winced as the pain flooded through him and sat up, pushing the heavy wood away. The room was a mess. Tattered purple draperies were lying under an entire cabinet of shattered jars. Most of the windows had cracked, and one was completely totaled. Smoke rose from the broken table where Rowena had cast her spell. Sam took a deep breath, rising from the rubble and grimacing as he placed a hand over the stinging gash on his forehead. Ouch.

“Rowena?” he called. “Lucifer? Gabriel?” 

 

“I’m here,” the witch croaked from under a pile of books that had fallen off their shelves. “Help me out of here, Samuel, I think I broke my ankle.” Sam hurried over, throwing the books off and helping Rowena up. 

“It’s not broken,” he murmured, gently tending to the protesting bone. “It’s just sprained. I’ll take you to a hospital.” 

“Do you know if it worked, lad? The spell?” Rowena’s eyes were bright with the promise of power, mixed with the pain of her ankle. 

“I’m not sure,” Sam mused. “I don’t see either ghost.” 

“We’re over here!” Two voices piped, and the tall man’s eyes widened. 

“Wait here and don’t put pressure on that. GABRIEL?!” He rushed towards the source of the call. 

“Sam!” A translucent head popped out of a pile of curtains and boxes. 

“Gabriel,” Sam gasped, reaching for him. “You’re okay.” The spirit smiled his oh-so-familiar smile and the tall man felt his heart melt. 

“What the hell did you do, bucko?” he asked, surveying the room. 

“Rowena brought you back.” 

“Against my better judgement,” the witch hissed, her eyes dark and angry now that her power had been affirmed. “Now look a’ what you’ve done. I’m immobile. I’ll be killed by thieves.”

“We’ll protect you, darling,” Lucifer said in a saccharine, sympathetic tone, rising from a pile of books and smiling sweetly at his old enemy. 

“Go to hell, Lucifer.”

“My namesake runs hell, darling.”  
“Like hell you do,” Rowena said proudly. “My son’s in charge of down under.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Sam muttered, smiling sheepishly at Gabriel. “Well, shall we go home?” The witch put a hand up to slow them and hobbled over to the overturned table, pulling the blood-covered piece of bugle out of the remains of the spell bowl and wiping it with the leather jacket. 

“Keep it with you, Samuel.”

“Thanks, Rowena,” Sam murmured. “I owe you one.” 

“Ha! You owe me sixty, dear child.” 

“You’re the best, you know that?” Sam grinned, patting her on the shoulder. 

“Mm. Keep telling me that, I live for it. Now shoo, I have to clean this mess up.”

“I can-” 

“Ach, fine, if you insist. Start with the bookshelf.” Sam blinked, slightly taken aback at the sudden change. 

“Alright…” 

“We’ll help too,” Gabriel chimed, elbowing Lucifer. “We do owe you a big one.” 

“You don’t owe me anything, little ghostie. But it’s still appreciated.” Sam walked over to one of the fallen bookshelves, clearing out the rubble behind it and lifting it up so it was resting against the wall. 

“Lucifer,” he said in a business-like tone, turning to the other ghost, who winced. “Can you start reshelving books, please?” The spirit blinked. He had clearly been expecting a rebuke. 

“S-Sure, no problem.” 

“Thanks.” Gabriel drifted over to Sam, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear as Sam slipped the piece of metal into his pocket. 

“What’ll you do with it?” 

“Give it to you, I was thinking.” Sam smiled at him, taking his hand and ignoring the dull ache as his skin turned a deeper purple. “You deserve autonomy.” 

“That’s a big word, Samwich,” Gabriel said softly. “I want you to have it.” 

“What?” 

“Did I stutter? I want to stay with you.” 

“Ga-”

“Non-negotiable, Jolly Green.” Sam’s cheeks turned pink and he smiled softly, looking away. 

“It’s an honor, Gabe. I’m not sure I deserve it.” 

“Fuck what you deserve, I want to stay with you,” he repeated, crossing his arms. “Please?” 

“He’s going to activate the hopeful eyes,” Lucifer warned. “You’re done for.” Blue-tinted gold shone hopefully up at Sam and his heart melted. 

“Ugh, fine. But I still don’t deserve it.” Gabriel cheered, smiling his special smile. Lucifer rolled his eyes, flicking his finger and watching contently as the books rose up to the shelf, organizing themselves and settling in. 

 

“He’s whipped,” the older ghost murmured. 

“They’re both whipped, lad,” Rowena commented, sweeping up broken glass and tossing a red curl over her shoulder. “Living at your house is going to be hell.” 

“Sappy idiots,” Lucifer mumbled sourly, setting up another bookshelf. “Look at them and their googly eyes.” Rowena smiled, walking over to a fallen cabinet and plucking a simple silver chain out of a bowl. 

“Samuel.” Sam turned, massive smile firmly set in place. “I think you should have this. Easier to carry your little lover boy around. May I?” The human curiously held out the piece of bugle, blinking when Rowena threaded the chain through a melted hole and hung it around his neck. “There we are.” Sam beamed, touching the new necklace and tucking it under his shirt, safe and warm. 

 

“Thanks again, Red.” 

“Not at all. Now get your foolish rear to work, we have a few hours of daylight left.” Gabriel laughed, pinching said rear and giggling when its owner yelped and jumped. 

“Gabriel!” Sam gasped, looking over at him and not being able to help smiling at the wide grin that was on the spectre’s face. 

“Yes, honeycakes?” 

“You’re absolutely terrible.”

“I love you with all of my soul too,” Gabriel said playfully. “Come on.” Sam’s heart did a little flip and he blushed, following the ghost into the heap of rubble. 

 

It took them well past dark to clean it all up, board up the windows, and reshelve the books. But by the time that they did, it was well worth it. Rowena served them all cake and tea and sent them on their way with a hex bag for protection each, muttering to herself about having the power to resurrect souls, and how she could put it to monetary use. 

“I like her,” Gabriel commented, gloved hand in Sam’s as they walked to the car. 

 

“I don’t,” Lucifer muttered sourly. “She hasn’t changed a bit. Well, maybe a little.” Sam turned the piece of bugle around his neck over and over, admiring it. The soot had burned into it, leaving the gold with beautiful swirls of black and brown. It was even prettier now, if possible. He helped Gabriel into the car and turned as someone caught his sleeve, expecting Lucifer. It was the witch. 

“I’m sorry, I have no money to pay you upfront,” Sam muttered apologetically. 

“You fool boy, you think I’m here about the money?” The tall man yelped as she grabbed his ear and dragged him into the alley. 

“Red, you gotta stop doing that!”

“You do love that ghostie, don’t you?” 

“I-”

“No matter. There’s a way to get him back to his body.” Sam gaped. 

“You’re telling me this now?” 

“I couldn’t say it in front of Lucifer, now could I?” Rowena hissed. “He’ll stop at nothing to try to get himself back.”

“Why?”

“Wouldn’t you? Look. His Death Day is coming up.” 

“Right.” 

“Let him kill you.” 

“I’m sorry?!” 

“Do I have to repeat myself? Let. Him. Kill. You. You will meet someone dressed in black. They’re called a reaper.”

“Right,” Sam gasped breathlessly. “So I should just… die.” 

“They will try to convince you to go with them, make the transition to heaven painless. Reapers hate paperwork.”

“Paper… I need to sit down.” 

“Can’t, no time. Put up a fight. Make it hard. Tell the reaper that you want to make a deal.” 

“A deal?”

“A deal. Trade something that is dear to you for your and Gabriel’s lives.” 

“Something dear to me?” 

“The violin, if it means what you say it does.” A cold hand twisted in Sam’s gut. Was it really worth it? Dean’s only gift to him, given away? But it was in exchange for a life. A life that Sam, as short as he had known it, valued deeply. He took a shaky breath, running his hand through his hair. 

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Think all you want, boy. In the end your heart will make the decision.” Rowena shot him a knowing smile and walked off, her hair bouncing as she clutched the book she had been holding to her chest. The book, Sam realized, that Lucifer had been holding in the car. Oh, well. She deserved it, whatever it was. He hopped back into the driver’s seat. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. The gay has started to flourish.


	9. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler. I have no excuse.

“Sam!” Once at home, Sam was immediately beset by a horde of worried spirits, Anna and Cas each tugging at a sleeve and Alfie clinging to his leg. “You’re not dead!” 

“We were soooo worried! How could you do that to us?”

“What’d she say?”

“Did you kill her?”

“Where’s Lucifer?”

“Guys!! Hey, hey, calm down, Jesus.”

“What about Gabriel?” Michael asked. “Is he still gone?”

“He is not,” Gabriel answered proudly, walking through Sam and smirking at the crowd of his family. “He is very much still dead, but less dead than he was before.” There was a roar of sobbing, laughing, and screaming, and Gabriel yelped as he was tackled to the floor and covered in a protective blanket of siblings and cousins. “Why didn’t y’all like me this much while I was breathing?” 

 

“You were an ass,” Balthazar wailed. “That’s why. And you’re still an ass, but you’re our ass, so that makes it okay.” Alfie squealed and laughed. Sam stood to the side, grinning as Gabriel fought off his worried family and came back to him, his hair a mess and his eyes bright. 

“So, they all like me now.” The human quirked an eyebrow. 

“They’re relieved to see you again. I know the feeling.” 

 

“Aww, Sammy, so sweet. I’m blushing.” Gabriel’s mischievous smirk didn’t quite cover up the wave of relief crashing in his eyes. Sam thought of Dean and looked away a little, his smile turning pensive. He missed his brother like nothing else.

“If you could come back…” He swallowed. “Would you?”

“Well, yeah. I mean…” Gabriel sighed. “Who wouldn’t want to be alive again?” His eyes got far away. “Plus, I’d like to be able to touch you. And use whatever you use for my hair, it smells edible. Whenever I try to take a bath, the water freezes.” His crush laughed, smiling brightly. 

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Sam said casually, “no reason. Rowena merely mentioned bringing someone back from the dead.”

“Alright, you listen to me, mister. If I’m coming back, it’s not through witchcraft.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind too.” Sam’s mind was made up.  _ Don’t worry, Gabriel, it won’t be through witchcraft. _

“Whatcha talking about?” Lucifer asked, making Sam’s head snap over in panic. 

“Aah, n-nothing.”

  
“Riiight. My apologies. I’ll leave you to your declarations of love.” 

“I’m  _ not _ -” Gabriel was blushing deep blue and Sam’s stomach dropped to his shoes. Gabriel didn’t love him. “Not right now, not with Lucifer here.” The human’s shoulders sagged in relief. There was still a chance. 

“You need a witness!”

“We’re not getting _married,_ you wackjob,” the little ghost snapped. 

“Not yet,” Lucifer sang, only to get whacked upside the head by Castiel. 

“Leave them alone, Lucifer,” The younger spirit muttered. “They deserve some time alone.” Lucifer’s smile dropped and he stalked off. Sam watched him go, biting his lip. 

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Gabriel sighed. 

“He’ll be fine, he’s just pissy that he couldn’t get me to wear Anna’s veil.” Sam laughed softly, leaning back against the banister. Rowena’s shop had been three hours away both ways, and it was already dark. To think that so much had gone down in only a day. 

 

“Well, I’m exhausted,” he said happily, stretching and not missing how Gabriel’s eyes flitted over his form appreciatively. “Bedtime?”

“Always down for some cuddling. With the proper barriers, of course.” Sam’s heart swelled. It had been agony with Gabriel gone for only seven hours, and he just realized exactly how very much he’d missed the quirky little spirit.  

“Still taking you out tomorrow.”

“Right, tomorrow’s April 2nd!” Gabriel beamed. “We can go to the zoo.” 

“I’ll take you to the zoo,” Sam promised, smiling as Gabriel cheered and jumped around. 

 

“Living animals! Man, I miss those. Are there monkeys? Lions?”

“Why would you ever want to see monkeys?” Castiel asked, walking up to him and bouncing a giggling Alfie. “You’ve got at least ten running around this place.” Gabriel laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Too true, little brother. But I mean the kind with considerably longer tails.” Sam chuckled, nursing his bruised hand from when he had touched Lucifer. It was just starting to ache, and was more severe than the others, even the mottled purple spot on his forehead with the small cut running straight through the center. “I’ll go get some ice for this and then we can go to bed, Gabe, how does that sound?” Castiel raised an eyebrow. They were sleeping together? Although really, no one in the house was entirely surprised.

 

That night, Sam was asleep before he had even hit the pillow. That night, Gabriel had climbed into bed with him, and neither of them had thought about it twice. It was a huge step, of course, but it didn’t seem so. Deceptive, how Sam’s arm pulled Gabriel closer, how the spirit gently pushed his face away with a gloved hand so the human’s nose didn’t press into the ghost’s neck. And surely the fact that Gabriel curled into the flannel of Sam’s pajamas meant nothing, right? 

 

For they were just friends, after all. 

  
  


***

 

All I ever wanted was to be your friend, and all I ever dreamed of is to be your lover.

 

-Unknown

  
  



	10. Lucifer, The Zoo, And a Frankly Horrible Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the Chapter title doesn't sum it up, then I don't know what to tell you. It's Lucifer's Death Day.

Sam woke up to a patch of warm sunlight laying over his face, and a cold body lying next to him. It took him a second to adjust. This wasn’t a nightmare, it wasn’t a dream. It was merely Gabriel, who looked up at him and grinned.

“Morning, sunshine.” Sam grinned back, staring at him for a bit, imagining roses in his cheeks and warmth in his body. “Whatcha looking at?” He smiled at the spirit.

 

“The guy that I intend to take to the outside world today.”

“Right! It’s Lucifer’s death day.” Gabriel hopped out of bed and grabbed a container of salt that Sam hadn’t remembered being on his nightstand before. The spirit shook it, raising an eyebrow.

“Momentary dispellment if we get jumped.”

 

“Right, let me get dressed.” Sam pulled on a quick mishmash of clothing and his wallet, making sure the piece of bugle was still hanging around his neck. “Okay, let’s go.” Gabriel had poured a line of salt in front of the door, looking over at the living man.

“I need you to break the salt line.”

“...”

“What applies to Lucifer applies to me, you damn idiot. We gotta bounce, come on.” Sam toed a gap in the salt line and yelped as he felt cold fingers at the back of neck. The skin under the elder spirit’s fingers purpled and blistered.

“Sammy,” Lucifer crooned, voice dark and malicious.  

“Hey!” Gabriel shouted, picking a handful of salt up and cradling it in his glove before tossing it onto Lucifer and watching as he vanished. “You okay?”

“I’m… ow. I think I’m bleeding.” Sam gingerly touched the back of his neck and pulled his fingers around, eyes widening at the ugly purple goo adorning them. “What the hell?”

“And that would be your skin.”

“My WHAT?!” Gabriel grabbed his wrist and yanked him out of the room. “It’s Lucifer’s Death Day, he’s the strongest right now. We’ll deal with it in the car.”

“What is it?”

 

“Liquefied bruise.” Sam gagged.

“Great.” Gabriel stopped dead as soon as they were at the door. There stood Lucifer. His jaw looked dislocated and his eyes were hollow and sunken, his neck twisted in a horrible, horrible position. Blood was gushing out of his nose and mouth, and his knees were turned inward like a sort of ghastly scarecrow. All the hatred and fear of the others, manifested.

“No-t.. a-... ste-...p...furt-her…” It came out in a kind of screech, like fingernails on chalkboard.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” Sam screamed, trying to backpedal, only to be held in place by an even paler than normal Gabriel, who gripped his salt canister.

“Lucifer.” His voice was calm. Lucifer looked up at him.

“Ga-...briel.” Gabriel placed a hand over the wound in his stomach, blood gleaming black on his shirt.

“Give it up, Lucifer.” Lucifer’s already hideous face contorted in rage.

“The-...y…”

 

“I know what they did, brother,” the younger spirit said calmly. “But I need you to let it go. I need you to let us pass.” Lucifer screamed and rushed Gabriel, only to get a faceful of salt. “Okay, that didn’t work. Come on.” A dazed and shaking Sam got yanked out of the house, feeling bloodied and twisted fingers grasping for his jacket.

They made it out of the house just in time, gasping as a shrieking Lucifer pounded at the barrier keeping him back. He couldn’t leave, Sam had left the jacket in his bedroom. It was too far away.

 

“H-Holy shit,” the living man gasped.

“Yeah, no kidding,” the dead one wheezed, tucking the salt canister in the passenger seat of the car.

“Every year?”

“Yep.”

“No wonder the other owners died.” The back of his neck hurt like a bitch, and he winced, gingerly touching it. Gabriel looked up.

“Right. Gotta deal with that. Get in the car.” Sam hopped in the backseat, handing the medical kit he kept under the driver’s seat to Gabriel, pulling his hair up. “Okay, turn around.”

“Can I trust that you’re pure of intent?” Sam’s joke fell flat, but Gabriel still chuckled.

 

“Purer than a unicorn’s sparkly ass. Okay, this is going to sting like a motherfucker.” He wiped away the skin that was sloughing off, grimacing as Sam yelped and almost let go of his hair.

“What the everloving fuck did he do-”

“Death Day,” the spirit reminded him. “And Lucifer took on all of our hatred and fear because of the auspicious stage of the moon, which was in the house of Neptune-”

 

“I have no clue what you’re saying.”

“Kid’s version, then. We died. He died supernaturally right after the clock chimed 12. Because of the moon, the nature of his death and the supernatural cause of it, the demon absorbed all of the anger and fear that makes vengeful spirits vengeful from all of us, and then left it in Lucifer’s body when it left him. Lucifer’s spirit, ascending, got it too, since it’s kind of theoretical and not solid. Hence...” There was another grating screech from the house. “...that.”

 

“That’s really confusing,” Sam said weakly. “I’m not used to this.”

“I’ve had a few decades to process.” Gabriel opened the tube of antiseptic, slathering it onto his human’s neck and grinning sheepishly when there was a pained hiss as a result. “Sorry.” A quick bandage, some medical tape, and a slew of nervous laughter later, they were on the road.

“So,” Sam said, looking over at the ghost, who was situated in the passenger’s seat. “What animals are you looking forward the most to seeing?”

“The lions,” Gabriel said dreamily. “The lions.” Sam prayed that the zoo had lions.

“Lions, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen one,” the spirit laughed. “But there was a picture in one of Alfie’s picture books, and one of the previous owners had a lion painting in my bedroom.”

“Well, we’ll get you to the lions,” Sam promised. Gabriel grinned, packing up the med kit with skilled fingers and shoving it in the glove compartment.

 

_Castiel watched Lucifer stagger around the house in blind rage, running upstairs and opening the door to the hall closet._

_“Stay quiet,” he told the figure inside. “It’ll be over at midnight.” The spirit sighed softly._

_“Get in here, I’m cold.” The blue-eyed spectre smiled and complied._

 

They pulled up and Sam paid for two, Gabriel wrapping the flannel more tightly around himself, hitching up Sam’s spare pair of sweatpants, and sinking into the scarf, the beanie that Sam had gotten out of Dean’s house flopping over his eyes.

“Have a nice day, sirs.”

“Mommy, that man has see-through feet!” Sam froze. Fuck.

“Yes, sweetie, I bet he does.” The mother didn’t even look over from the monkey exhibit. “Come look at the baby, Aster.”

 

“Baby monkey?!” the little girl squealed, running over.

“Saved by the baby monkey,” Gabriel muttered, grinning through the fabric. Sam laughed, slipping his hand into Gabriel’s glove and feeling his face blush. Gabriel looked away and squeezed Sam’s hand, his grin widening.

 

Thankfully, the zoo had lions. A male and three females, lounging in their habitat while the two youngest played. Sam got to watch Gabriel light up like a Christmas tree, his hands creating a faint fog on the glass as he gazed at them in wonder.

“Sammy, they’re huge!”

“Yeah,” Sam grinned, leaning against one of the fake wood pillars. “Aren’t they neat?”

“They move so… fluidly,” Gabriel said breathlessly, his eyes the size of dinner plates. Sam laughed, walking up to him and wrapping an arm around the flannel. They didn’t think about it. “It’s like they’re not even real.”

“Oh, they’re real,” the living man chuckled. “All pulled out of the wild because of injuries.” Gabriel drooped.

 

“Makes sense. I just wish they had never been hurt at all.” Sam’s phone buzzed and he looked down at his pocket, frowning. It could wait.

“Hey, look over there, they’re raising money to build the lions a new habitat!” He gave Gabriel his sunniest smile. “Let’s go check it out, huh?” Gabriel nodded, immediately lighting up again.

“Are those toy lions?”

 

“I do believe they are.” The price of the stuffed animals were almost offensive, but Sam figured that a little extra expense for the happiness of Gabriel was no expense at all. He returned to the spirit, making a hasty lie to the vendor about communicable illness to explain Gabriel’s strange outfit, and handed him the plush lion. His reaction was more than worth the extra five dollars. There was a happy squeal and Gabriel leapt into Sam’s arms, wrapping his arms around his neck.

 

“I get to keep it?”

“Of course,” Sam laughed, trying not to fall over. “Did you think I was going to take it from you?”

“Thank you!” There was a childish grin on Gabriel’s face, and the living man couldn’t help but grin in response.

“You did mention how much you loved lions.” Gabriel cooed to the soft fur, petting it.

“I’m gonna name him Godric.”

“The Robinsons really were crazy about Harry Potter, huh?”

“Yeah. They had a Hufflepuff flag hanging over their bed.”

“Oh my god,” Sam snickered, starting to walk towards the seals.

 

***

 

To Gabriel’s chagrin, he could no longer consume cotton candy, but he only pouted about it for a few minutes before they made it to the giraffe traveling exhibit. Then he was all smiles again, walking around under his massive pile of protective gear. Sam was smiling too, laughing with Gabriel, laughing at him and his antics a few times, and internally hoping that after tonight, he’d get to see the vibrant little spirit again.

“Hey, I’m kind of tired, you wanna go home?” It was dark now, and the street lamps were on. Gabriel had exhausted himself by being in the sun all day. Apparently, the little spectre wasn’t quite used to so much light. He yawned, leaning against Sam.

 

“But what about Lucifer?”  

“We can get past him, can’t we? We did it before.” Sam smiled reassuringly at him, very conscious of the bandage at the back of his neck. Gabriel blinked sleepily.

“Fine, but only because I need to recharge. All this light is weakening me.” Sam unlocked the car and noticed the little beeping noise. Everything seemed in high def, every little motion or sound reminding Sam that if it didn’t go right, he might not hear any of that again. Gabriel popped into the passenger seat, taking off all of the ridiculous clothing and looking up at his friend.

 

“You okay, Sam?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam shot him a wan smile, sitting down and starting the car.

“Good, because there’s something I gotta do.”

“Hm? What would that be?”

“ONE THOUSAND BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL~” Sam paled. This was the thing he was going to listen to before his death?

“Gabriel, no!”

“ONE THOUSAND BOTTLES OF BEEEER~”

“NO!” It was a half-hour drive home. By the time that they had made it, Gabriel was at about nine hundred, and Sam would have happily welcomed death.

 

“EIGHT HUNDRED AND NINETY NINE BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL~”

“This is how you repay me?” Gabriel was now making Godric the Stuffed Lion dance to the ear agony that he was spewing.

“EIGHT HUNDRED AND NINETY NINE BOTTLES Of BEEEEEEEEER~”

“You told me you weren’t malicious! Now shut up, you’ll bring Lucifer down on our heads.” Gabriel mercifully stopped, getting out of the car and clutching Godric to his chest.

 

“I’ve got the salt in… where did it go?” Sam swallowed.

“We’ll just have to make it without the salt,” he said quietly, pretending that he hadn’t hidden it in the trunk. Gabriel thought for a second, but by then Sam was already to the door, walking in long, quick strides.

“...Sam, where’s the salt?” he asked quietly. Sam swallowed, opening the door and turning around.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Gabriel’s eyes went wide.

“SAM!” He ran after him, but it was too late. He was in the living room. Sam felt a freezing hand on his shoulder.

“Hi, Lucifer.” He was so much more calm than he thought he would be. He was trembling, but that was it. Sam’s mind was peacefully blank. Gabriel was screaming, rushing for him.

 

“Not a st...ep… furth..er…” Lucifer said in his wet, choking, screeching voice. “I ca...n ma...ke… it ...to… the...door.” Sam realized with a chill that he was reciting the last words of the family. “I’ve… g...ot… this…” The living man, soon to be a dead man, noticed the silvery blade from the drawer upstairs. Time slowed.

 

One would think that getting stabbed would hurt like mad, and it did, but it wasn’t a searing, unbearable pain. Sam fell to his knees, staring hollowly at the knife sticking out of his gut. Gabriel scrambled up the stairs and stood in the doorway, hands to his mouth in horror.

 

“Sam,” he choked, unable to say much else. Sam looked up, trying to say something, some three words that were used so often, but not much by him. Dean had said them to him before he had died.

 

_“I love you, Sammy.”_

_“For someone who hates chick flick moments, Dean, that’s awfully sappy of you.”_

_“Shut up, bitch.” Sam had smiled tearfully._

_“Jerk.”_

_Flatline._

 

Sam’s heart was working overtime, a last hurrah before it stopped as blood soaked the carpet. He had to say the three words. Just in case it didn’t work.

“I-...” All that came out was one of the three words, and a sizeable amount of blood. Tears sprung to Sam’s eyes. He couldn't say it. Gabriel was crying.

“No,” he sobbed. Lucifer stuttered and flickered. “No, no, no, Sam…” The smaller spirit ran to him, easing him to the ground.

“I…” Sam choked again, his vision going darker by the second. Gabriel wailed.

“You were supposed to live, you dumb bastard, why did you do this?” Sam wanted to cradle him in his arms, to hold him and soothe him and beg him to stop crying.

“So...rry…”

“No, please, Sam,” Gabriel wept, kneeling beside him. Lucifer flickered, fluttered, and vanished, probably to go stalk his disjointed, creepy ass around the basement. And Sam’s eyes closed. “SAM!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA hate me later.


	11. Not Quite My Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam meets a variant of Death. His life has gotten very interesting lately.

“Why did you _do_ that?” came a harried mutter from behind Sam. “You _idiot_ , it’s not your time yet!” The tall man turned around. A being dressed in black was scribbling something down in a legal pad and glaring at him.

“You’re a reaper.” _I didn’t expect it to look like a corporate douchebag._

 

“And you were dumb enough to move into this house.” The reaper clicked their tongue impatiently. “Come on, I don’t have all day, and I’ve got to haul your stupid ass to heaven.” _Rowena told me to resist it. Make it tough for them._

“No.” The reaper blinked.

“What? You don’t get to say no.”

“Really?” Sam asked, sounding a lot braver than he felt. “Because that’s what I’m doing. No.”

“Do you want to stay with your little spirit boyfriend then?” Sam’s pale cheeks tinged pink.

“I’m...uh... going to make you a bargain,” he stammered out, caught off guard.

“Look. I know you need to go through the stages of grief, but could you hightail it to ‘acceptance’, please? I have other dumbasses to pick up.”

“I’m not leaving with you.”

“Becoming a spirit is a nasty business,” they warned.

“I’m not doing either of those. I’m making you a bargain.”

 

“I don’t have time…” The reaper looked at their watch. “Fine, what are your terms?” they sighed exasperatedly, glaring at Sam.

“My violin for my and Gabriel’s lives.”

“You think that’s _your_ violin?”

“It was a gift,” Sam snapped. The reaper’s face was unreadable.

“Bring me the violin, then.” Sam left Gabriel weeping over his body (god, how his heart twisted) and picked up the case from where it lay sadly, thrown to the side of the room, a casualty of Lucifer’s looting for the objects that currently held his family. He picked it up, bringing it over to the reaper.

“Can he see me?”

 

“Mister Shurley? No. He cannot. While in a state of limbo, you are invisible to all but me. Unfortunately.” The reaper opened the box and looked over the contents.

“A fine violin. Given to you by your brother. What would Dean think if he heard you were giving it away?”

“He would be glad that I was _trading_ it for the life of someone I care about.”

“Would he?” _They’re trying to manipulate me. Fuck_.

“He’s moved on. He’s happy now,” Sam faltered. “It’s time for me to start making my own decisions.” The reaper nodded, setting it back in the case and checking their watch again.

“Hm. Damn. Well, there’s no time left, so I suppose that I accept your terms. I hate it, it may get me fired, but I accept your terms.” They flicked their hand impatiently, scowling at him.

“I hope you don’t get fired,” Sam offered. “You’re a very good reaper, you know.” The reaper’s face crinkled in distaste and they picked up the violin.

“Oh, well. There goes my perfect record,” they griped, snapping their fingers.

“Wait!” Sam said suddenly, having an idea. “I have another term.”

“Are you pulling on my leg?!” the reaper sighed exasperatedly. “What the hell do you want?”

“Lucifer Shurley moves on. Goes to heaven. Lets the anger go.” Their face brightened.

“That could certainly earn me some cred up in headquarters. I accept. Again. Have a nice life, Sam Winchester, I’ll see you soon.” They snapped their fingers.

 

Sam yawned, sitting up in bed and stretching a little, warm sunlight slanting over his face. He looked down. There was a warm body pressed against him, a mop of golden hair over the pillow…

“Gabriel! Gabriel wake up!” Sam shook him. Gabriel’s eyes snapped open (god, they were such a pretty color), and he looked in terror at Sam’s hands on him.

“Sam, stop touching me, it’ll… wait, Sam?”

“Yeah,” Sam said breathlessly, staring at him. “Gabe, I made a deal with a reaper.” Gabriel went pale.

“You’re dead.”

“No, I’m alive. And you are too.” Gabriel looked at his hands, gasping.

“I can…”

“Yeah!”

“You can…”

“Yeah!” Sam grinned wider, if possible, jumping off of the bed and swinging Gabriel around. The smaller man shrieked in surprise and then started laughing.

“Put me down, put me down!” Sam did so, setting him down gently and holding him close. He smelled sweet. His hair was soft, he was warm and real and there and he was _Gabriel_ , and it was all that Sam needed.

“Hey, what’s all the hubbub- WHAT THE FUCK!?”

“Hi, Anna,” Gabriel said lightly. Anna gaped, her eyes flicking from one living man to the other.

“You’re… alive,” she murmured.

“Yeah.”

“Sam’s… alive,” she murmured again.

“Yeah,” Sam added.

“Holy shit. I don’t even want to know. Well, I’ll tell the others to stay out of your room for awhile with no peeping, have a fun night!” The door slammed. Gabriel paused for a second before bursting out laughing.

“She thinks we’re going to get it on,” he giggled. Sam smirked, rocking him. He was never, ever going to stop touching Gabriel. He was so warm, so soft… so alive.

 

“So this is what you feel like,” he teased. “Squishy.” He squeezed Gabriel and got a squawk and slap in response.

“That was the dumbest thing that anyone who has ever lived here has ever done, Sam Winchester,” Gabriel said lowly.

“What, the squeeze?”

“You think I’m talking about the squeeze? That’s only the second most dangerous.” Sam’s smile faded a little.

“I wasn’t going to make it anyway. It was the best possible ending.”

“Hm. Well, I think you owe me something for spoiling such a terrific day.”

“And what would that be?”

“A kiss.” Sam happily complied.

“GUYS! GUYS, Lucifer’s gone!” Balthazar shrieked, running in and stopping dead at the sight. “Ooh, you two finally did figure it out. Happy living!” Gabriel looked over.

 

“Lucifer’s gone?” Sam pulled him into another kiss, not really caring about Balthazar and his keen eyes.

“Yeah, I made a deal with the reaper to let him move on.” Silence. Sam waited nervously.

“Well, I suppose it’s the best thing,” Balthazar said finally. “He’ll be happy in heaven, the old bastard.” Gabriel nodded, gently spinning the piece of bugle around Sam’s neck.

“What did you trade?”

“My violin.” Gabriel looked up, his eyes sad.

“So you’re going to stop playing?”

“Who said that I was going to stop playing? I have someone to clap for me, after all.” Another kiss, and another, and a wolf-whistling Balthazar was escorted out of the room by an exasperated Anna.

  



	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS THE PLOT TWIST HOO DAMN Y'ALL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex mention, but no smut because posting that is like putting your ear by a french chef chopping onions.

“Baby, I’m home!” 

“Ooh, he’s calling him baby now.” Sam grinned, throwing his briefcase at the ghost currently occupying the couch. 

“Don’t tease Gabriel, Balthazar, he’ll put the fear of god in you.”

 

“I’m not the one married to him, and I’m not teasing him. I’m teasing you, because you’re a cheese.” The spirit shrugged, taking a swig of whiskey and watching it disappear down his body. Rowena, finding Balthazar much more amenable to kindness than Lucifer, had managed to develop an extremely potent alcohol that was drinkable by ghosts. It had been two years since Sam had “died”, and  his family had accepted that Gabriel was alive much more easily than he had thought they would. Only Metatron and Naomi were jealous, but no one really cared about them. 

 

The house was thriving. The wood had been redone, the carpets and furniture had been replaced, the counters had been replaced with smooth granite. The old, dusty horror of a house had been long left behind. A little picture of Lucifer had been dug up and placed on the mantle, and Gabriel touched it as he walked downstairs each day, getting ready for work. 

 

And Sam and Gabriel’s room had been ghost-proofed, after one extremely embarrassing incident that involved Inias fleeing from the room in terror after walking in on Gabriel writhing happily under Sam, his hands cuffed to the bed frame. 

 

Joshua had redone the backyard after extensively detailing to Sam the exact plants that he needed, and now a pretty little patio had been set in place, complete with fairy lights. Flowering vines crawled up and over the trellises. It was summer, and everything was green and alive, except for many of the house’s inhabitants. 

 

They were all drinking wine out on said patio (with the exception of a pouting little spectre named Alfie), Gabriel sitting on Sam’s knee. The smaller man had started working at a bakery, and Sam worked mostly from home, giving legal advice over email and occasionally holding e-conferences, which all of the ghosts he lived with hated. The record player was playing some soft classic rock, and a few of the ghosts were dancing. None of them particularly noticed that Castiel was gone. 

 

“Do you figure that we should tell him?” he asked, rocking softly to the song. His companion looked out at the pair, who were laughing and singing along to “Dead or Alive”. 

 

“Not yet, Cas.” Green eyes, tinged with the blue filter of death, flicked over to look at him. “Let’s just dance, it’s Bon Jovi.” Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel and spun him, laughing. 

 

Sam looked over at the trellis. He was sure he could hear his brother chuckling. But then Gabriel was pulling him out onto the dance floor, hair bouncing, and his curiosity was forgotten for the moment. 

 

“Hey,” he murmured. 

“Hey,” Gabriel murmured back, tugging on the necklace with the bugle piece in it. “I love you.”

“You  _ cheese,” _ Sam laughed. Balthazar snickered from where he was sipping his drink. 

“It’s true!” the smaller man protested. His husband smiled as the last chords of the song cut the night air. His life was anything but normal now, but it was perfect. A new violin sat in the house, with an engraving of Dean’s name and his necklace wrapped around the end of it. No one would be forgotten. 

“I love you too.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd you like it? Let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god, let me know what you think! Please! I haven't been writing for awhile because I had no motivation, so please feed me with comments!
> 
>  
> 
> (keysmashing is extra appreciated.)


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